


Geralt never meant to hurt Jaskier

by sweetlotus



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Geralt is stronger than realises or Jaskier is just weaker than Geralt knows, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Triss is kiiinnnnddd of in it, Violence, but maybe he should leave the witcher alone, jaskier just wants to stay besides Geralt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:40:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29132700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetlotus/pseuds/sweetlotus
Summary: Geralt was always stronger than he had realised and Jaskier was weaker than he let on. Jaskier was always quick to say something whether it was a comment here or there but what did it mean for their relationship or friendship (if thats what Jaskier could even call them... when Geralt had never really expressed that Jaskier was his friend) when Jaskier would never actually say how he felt?Sometimes he wished he could tell Geralt that he was weak and that it actually hurts.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 75
Kudos: 207





	1. This wasn't the first time

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Witcher fanfic! I am basically using stories from the show (e.g. the striga stuff) but changing it to an extent so that it fits in with the story so some details will be similar yet the majority will not be! 
> 
> I do not own any of these characters :P (although a girl can wish) 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! Also if there are any triggers or warnings that I should put or any errors you guys believe please comment below and let me know so I can make that change as I want this to be as enjoyable as possible for everyone!

There was a problem with Jaskier, not that anyone would notice. You see Jaskier always spoke all the time, yet from the millions of words that left his mouth he never really said what he really thought. 

He was always quick to make a comment about the cute flowers that littered their path, how Geralts hair would look cuter if he was allowed to braid it or the foul stench that wafts from them after days of camping in the forest and only being able to bathe in streams. Other things Jaskier would say were that his legs hurt, that his toes were beginning to get numb or that his shoulders hurt from carrying his lute around all day. Although he tried and tried to talk to Geralt he knew that Geralt never really listened. 

Geralt never slowed down to look at the flowers Jaskier so frequently pointed out or to give his aching legs a break, Geralt rarely ever let Jaskier touch him let alone let him actually braid his hair… all that comment ever gets is a ‘mhm’ which Jaskier has learnt means that Geralt is listening to an extent, but he doesn’t really care. Geralt never wanted to bathe with Jaskier which this one he didn’t really mind since the Witcher thoroughly enjoyed his privacy as he knows, yet after 5 years he thought they would have done that by now. As for his back hurting, Geralt had actually offered to strap his lute on to Roach once which had really shocked Jaskier, and as tempting as the offer had been Jaskier refused, he felt warm from the offer but knew that Geralt would have been insanely annoyed had he actually accepted it. 

The reason I am telling you this is because Jaskier never spoke up and Geralt never realised something was wrong. How could he? 

This wasn’t the first time Geralt had hit Jaskier. Once whilst walking for ages Jaskier had practically talked so much Geralts ear was on the verge of falling off so he turned back and gave Jaskier a quick punch in the stomach. Jaskier knew that Geralt held back because a real punch from the Witcher would have left him with broken ribs yet this one had left him winded and bruised. He understood that Geralt wouldn’t ever want to cause real harm to him, he was his bard after all, but Jaskier knew that Geralt didn’t really understand how strong he was and how fragile Jaskier was. 

The second time was when Jaskier had come back drunk from singing all night and getting drinks and coin as payment. He had a few village women throw themselves at him, try to pull him to go to their house, to spend the night and as tempted as Jaskier was he couldn’t stop imagining his Witcher upstairs in their room and realised he would rather just get back to his side. However, Jaskier was just human after all and never turned down a good ale or… a few. After what Jaskier thought was only an hour or two at most and only 2 or 3 drinks he politely turned down the women and made his way drunkenly up the stairs. He was happy to show the Witcher what he had accumulated, and he also had brought him an ale that he was offered yet saved for Geralt. 

He nudged the door open with his foot and peaked his head round. Geralt was exactly where he had imagined him to be, at the foot of bed with his swords in hand and a sharpening tool from Kaer Mohren in the other. He was preparing for their next monster and needed his swords to be as sharp as possible. 

‘Geral…t’ Jaskier said with a hiccup in between, ‘look what I got!’ He grinned a toothy smile and held up his hands. One held a thick coin pouch nearly bursting at the seams and the other a nice cool ale which was now dripping all over the floor due to Jaskier drunkenly swaying side to side. Geralt grumbled something incoherent which Jaskier took as approval and his big blue eyes lit up. He walked towards Geralt holding out the ale, which after putting everything back in their appropriate places he accepted with a low ‘Thanks’. Jaskier than turned to the bed and poured all of his coins out, 274 crowns! Wow! This was insane! 

Jaskier turned with insane speed to tell Geralt how much he had made for him but he hadn’t realised how close Geralt had gotten which meant that he had accidently thrust himself at Geralts side which caused Geralt to pour some of the ale he was holding on his fresh clean clothes. Geralt was visibly annoyed with this and gave Jaskier a prod on the shoulder with his finger ‘Be careful bard’ he growled before he stalked to the other side of the bed. 

Although it was just a finger Jaskier’s shoulder was basically pushed back in an unnatural way. Geralt really didn’t understand his strength but Jaskier never said anything either. For the next few days after that incident Jaskier kept his distance from Geralt as they walked through the forest to the next town and made sure his strap was now on a different shoulder than usual so that his bruised shoulder would have time to heal. Geralt wouldn’t notice any of this so Jaskier wouldn’t say. 

So yeah, Geralt had hit him before and he actually never really meant to hurt him much, Geralt never realised he was so strong and Jaskier never told him how weak he was, so this was okay for now. 

After walking for ages, Geralt and Jaskier had finally come to a town that had a striga problem (whatever that is, thought Jaskier). The people of the town were quick to turn on Geralt and try to run him out of their little village, but he knew that without Geralts help that eventually they would have all died and Geralt would be left feeling guilty. Odd that, Witchers were not supposed to feel much or probably anything at all but Jaskier realised after the years of walking and keeping Geralt company that many times the contracts he took never paid well and that it was obvious he did everything he did from the goodness of his heart. He had realised very quickly that Geralts soul was pure and that he never deserved any hate he had gotten. 

That being said Jaskier knows better than to talk for Geralt because at the end of the day Jaskier would not be the one to fight, would not be the one to put his life on the line… all Jaskier would be good for is following Geralt, rewriting his reputation and tending to his wounds, if Geralt let him which wasn’t often. That’s why when Jaskier said Geralt would kill this striga (which he had no idea what it was, but he had faith Geralt could kill anything that came in his path) he hadn’t realised what danger he was putting his best friend in and what little price he was asking for in return. The villagers agreed as did the village rulers and that was that. Geralt would go put his life on the line for 112 crowns. 

‘What the fuck do you think you are doing?’ Geralt growled when they had gotten to their room that the village had offered them.

‘Urm.. I don’t know… I thought I was helping’ Jaskier replied shuffling his feet afraid to keep eye contact with the man in front of him, ‘you have taken many more contracts for way less, so I thought what’s one more… I didn’t mean any harm’ Jaskier raised his head. He could see the way Geralt was tensing his fists and the way his nose flared as he attempted to keep his temper under control. 

‘and what do those contracts have in common?’ Geralt replied through gritted teeth. ‘I chose them! I chose when my life would be put on the line you stupid bard!’ Geralt was raising his voice and Jaskier flinched at the words. He was always quick to forget that although Geralt was his best friend the feeling was barely mutual. He was nothing but a stupid bard to Geralt. Geralt made his way towards Jaskier and Jaskier flinched thinking that the man would hit him due to him being insanely angry but then Jaskier relaxed. Geralt had never actually hit him with the intention to cause serious pain so there was nothing to be afraid of, and he was right. 

As Jaskier said Geralt was kind and pure and he never actually wanted to hurt his friend, not as stupid as Jaskier can be. So, when Geralt kept walking towards him he couldn’t really understand what would happen but then in a moment Geralt had pushed Jaskier to the side with a ferocity that Jaskier had never seen direct at him. Jaskier crumbled into the wall, hearing a little crack as he had put his hands out to brace the impact. Yeah… I’ve broken something… in both hands fuck. Jaskier let out a wail because as strong as he wanted to be that fucking hurt. He looked back at where he was previously standing to see that the reason, he was pushed at all was because he was blocking Geralt from his weapons, he hadn’t realised previously. Geralt slung his swords across his back and glanced at Jaskier… ‘You hurt?’ he asked, looking remorseful. 

Jaskier pushed himself up, face tightening with pain as the bones in his hands shifted as he used them to get up. ‘No, I’m okay but seriously Geralt I am sorry… for everything’ Jaskier replied in a little voice. Geralt nodded his head and came towards Jaskier, he put a hand on the bard’s shoulder and then let out in a low voice ‘As am I’ and then turned and made his way out of the room. Jaskier knew he was going to fight the striga and all he could do was wait. 

Tend to his own wounds which clearly as broken bones go in humans were not going to heal any time soon, yet he would have to bandage them and make sure that they would work again. He couldn’t imagine how useless he would be to the Witcher if he couldn’t play his lute for money or even just use his hands. 

So that’s what he did. He cried at his hands and at what he had made Geralt do and cried in hopes that Geralt would return safe. He cried so much that he passed out on top of the bed, exactly as he was tired from spilling tears all night. All he could have done was cried and waited, hoping his best friend would be alright.


	2. Geralts fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt fights the Striga, he needs to survive if he were to see Jaskier again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So not much guilt happens here because Geralt is preoccupied but it was a necessary chapter to set up the rest of the story! 
> 
> Don't worry guys, there will be more hurt coming and a lot more remorse and Jaskier appreciation to! I am hoping to update frequently so yeah! 
> 
> One again let me know if there is anything I need to warn people about and enjoy! 
> 
> Also the timeline in this chapter bounces a little, I hope its clear - if not let me know so I can edit it in a sense where it is a bit clearer! Thanks!

Geralt had been fighting for what felt like an eternity at this point. He was used to fighting beasts but something about this Striga just didn’t sit right with him. Had he had a silver sword, something the Striga would not appreciate, this fight would have been over before it had even started but Geralt, listening to the tales the villagers were saying around town knew that there was something different about this Striga. 

This striga was actually a young girl, cursed to be the abomination it had become. 

Now Geralt refused to show it but he felt… a lot. He felt joy, sadness, love and everything else any other normal person would feel but he never showed it. How could he? He wasn’t normal, he was a monster and monsters aren’t exactly allowed to feel these things. But because of these feelings he knew he couldn’t out right kill this Striga, he had to give it a chance. Give the young girl a chance. The same chance Jaskier had given him. I wonder how Jaskier is right now, he thought. 

It had taken him less than a few seconds to realise that what he had done was unforgiveable. The look on his friend’s face… wait, had he ever actually told Jaskier that he was his friend? He didn’t think so. Also, his fine Witcher hearing allowed him to hear a crack, or so he thinks. He was so engulfed with rage at that moment that he wasn’t sure whether that’s what he actually heard. He shook his head, doubting it. Jaskier would have told him if he really hurt him, right? 

Geralt shook his head again. The Striga screamed. This was no time to think of Jaskier, if he wanted to apologise, he would have to stay alive, he would have to survive this night. 

Geralt being Geralt knew a lot about monsters and Strigas being one of them. He knew he had to find what had cursed it, but luckily for him he had found this prior to coming face to face with the monster. After what he had done to Jaskier he had to leave the room, so he had gone to the bar keep below and asked for a cool ale. The man had asked if he were the Witcher that would fight the Striga and to that Geralt nodded his head. The man presented him with a cup iced and cool and Geralt took it. He looked down at the cup, it had reminded him of when Jaskier had given him a nice cool drink once, after he had played his music all night. Had he even said thanks? Had he even shown his appreciation? Geralt took a sip and let the cold beverage numb his insides, he had to beat this Striga if not for himself then for Jaskier. 

He had asked the man behind the bar whether he knew why the Striga was what it was and whether all the tales he heard were true? The man chuckled and explained in depth that everyone close to the town knew about the creature. Knew that it was a young girl cursed for her mother’s affairs, cursed because of a love she didn’t even get to experience and being a Striga will never get to experience. Geralt nodded at this, he understood what the man was saying. He understood what the whole town was saying. 

They were not asking for the Striga to be outright killed, they were asking for Geralt to give her another chance at life. The best way for this was to occupy her tomb, to make sure that she would suffer in the sun light eventually when morning comes but this would be no easy feat. He would have to subdue this Striga to even give himself a chance to get close to the tomb. 

Geralt finished his drink and then looked up at the ceiling. He wondered whether he should go apologise to Jaskier once more, let him know he wouldn’t do it again, but his body didn’t allow him to. His thoughts raced and he realised that maybe by apologising he would make it worse? Jaskier never said he was hurt, and Jaskier talks a lot so Jaskier would simply tell him if that is what he felt so really was there a reason to apologise again? 

He would think about it. 

*Back to the fight* The Striga once again screamed at the top of her throat, if Geralt could even call it a her. It lunged at him bearing all her strength and her teeth glistened from the torches that littered the walls. Geralt was quick and dodged to the side letting the Striga land on the floor, long sharp nails digging into the stone to keep her in place. Geralt was close to her. He could feel her breath on his face, too close for comfort. 

He swung his steel sword at her and as fast as Geralt was the Striga moves but fortunately he still manages to get her. The sword dug deeply inside the Strigas face, cutting her cheek where a black goo spilled out. 

The Striga screamed and thrashed in place until it decided to pounce a bit further from Geralt, it seemed as though it needed a little break. 

Geralt used this opportunity to run, there were stairs behind him which led to a crypt where he knew that the Strigas tomb lay, right in the middle. He knew if he could just get to the tomb that this whole night would be over. That he would survive. That he would get to see Jaskier again. 

The stairs unfortunately were not easy to run down. There were liquids everywhere, blood (mostly Geralts), goo from the Striga and even saliva from the Striga from each time she would wail and spit everywhere. This made the descent extremely slippery and one wrong move could cost him his life, but he didn’t have time to walk down the stairs with grace instead Geralt allowed himself to slip, he knew this momentary hurt, a pre-planned hurt would feel better in the morning when he was still alive. 

Slipping down the stairs had been a good idea to Geralt… at the time. But when his large body thudded at the end of the stairs, shattering pain radiating from each limb of his body he knew that it was actually incredibly stupid. He could hear the Striga, nails digging with each step, its breath loud and clear as it made its way towards Geralt. 

He had to do something, it was now or never. 

The Striga now at the edge of the staircase looked down to see Geralts crumpled form and it was as though it were happy to see that Geralt was currently down and not ready for a fight because he was sure he heard a trill bounce from the walls. It resembled a laugh. Geralt laid there, he had his steel sword in hand and knew that the best plan was not to run, not right now, not while he hurt in every sense of the word but to wait. He laid on his front, back to the Striga but his Witcher hearing was intense and the potion he had taken earlier in the fight had helped enhance everything, he could hear clearer, but he could also feel more pain. It was a win-lose potion. 

In what felt like less than a second he heard the Striga jump. It was jumping directly towards Geralt and he knew that this was his chance, his chance of survival. Before the Striga was practically on him Geralt rolled on to his back, steel sword in hand and held it up. The Striga, as long limbed as it was, had nothing to grip on to and fell directly on his sword. It would not be killed but would be incapacitated for at least a while. However, it was never that easy. The Striga with its remaining energy screamed and slashed at Geralt catching him right in the face. It tore the skin of his forehead which now meant he had blood running down his face, he knew if Jaskier could see him right now that he would be afraid. Afraid of how much he looked like the monster he was. 

But with that final swipe, the Striga collapsed to its side. Heavy breathing came from its lifeless form indicating that Geralt did exactly what he wanted, he hadn’t killed the monster, just given himself a chance to survive. He ignored the pain for a second, a new rush of adrenaline pumping through his body and quickly pulled his steel sword from the Strigas body. He turned and ran towards the crypt. He could see, there right in the centre was the Strigas tomb. 

Geralt turned back once more to ensure the Striga lay where he had left it and to his surprise it was already attempting to get back up. It was eerily silent as though it was attempting to get up and surprise kill the Witcher when his back was turned. This Striga seemed more intelligent than usual. But with each moment he passed he saw the Strigas limbs giving out and it once more falling to the floor, Geralt let out a deep breath of relief he was right in front of the tomb. He pulled the lid to the side and took a look inside. Disgusting but better than being dead. 

The Striga seeing what Geralt was doing let out a shriek from where it was but it couldn’t do anything. Geralt quickly looked away and climbed in. It was nearly morning so he was grateful he would not have to be in here for long. He wanted to go back to his room, to see Jaskier... his Jaskier. 

As Geralt lay in the tomb the blood from his wounds trickled down, his face with the deepest cut must have looked disgusting right now and the blood was getting in his eyes. He was exhausted. With an image in his mind of Jaskier asleep and safe in their room, Geralt turned and took a short nap. He would deal with the Striga when he had to. 

He was just happy this was over and that he would be able to see Jaskier again soon. Through the fighting he decided he would apologise to Jaskier again and make sure he really was okay. He had to.


	3. Jaskiers choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier makes a choice, but is it the right one?

Jaskier woke up. It was dawn already? He must have been really tired because he couldn’t even remember falling asleep. 

He looked down at himself. He saw he was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday which saved him the need to get up and get changed. Which was a relief to Jaskier because as his mind cleared the memories of yesterday flooded back in. He looked to his left and saw the little mark on the wall where his body had flung and then his eyes darted back to his hands. 

His hands were bandaged, albeit poorly and the slightest movement would mean that the bandages would become loose and useless quickly, but it was better than nothing. It was hard to bandage his hands as they wouldn’t cooperate because moving them meant nothing but pain and even harder to tie the bandage ends with tears in his eyes. His green doublet, which once he thought was beautiful, looked ugly to him right now. It was the same green that was dotted around his hands and fingers. A green brown from all the bruising, a stark contrast on Jaskier’s pale skin. He wondered how they looked under the bandages. 

Jaskier looked around the room once more before attempting to get up. He took a mental note of what was in the room and sighed when he realised that everything he needed was right there. He never thought he would do what he was about to do, but he knew it was the right thing. 

The words ‘stupid bard’ replayed in his head. It would only be a few hours before Geralt returned and he didn’t know if he should be here waiting for him. He didn’t think Geralt would actually want to see him, that’s if he didn’t get the Witcher killed of course. 

Jaskier shivered at the thought. His Witcher laying on the cold ground, torn limbs and blood oozing in all directions. The Striga grinning, happy it had killed once again, and it would be all his fault. Before he realised a tear was streaming down his cheek, he chuckled silently to himself, ‘his witcher’ he had thought. Pathetic, they weren’t even friends! 

With that Jaskier felt himself heave but remembering that he hadn’t had the chance to eat or drink before falling asleep he was relieved to find nothing came out. He didn’t want to be a nuisance to the lovely people that offered their room to him and Geralt. It would be disgusting for them to clean his sick from the floor. 

Jaskier stood up, taking a second to steady himself. He looked at the chair beside a desk of draws and saw a satchel on it. It was nearly empty as it was the one Geralt used to keep some of his potions in but knowing that he would be up against a Striga he took the majority of them with him and there were only 2 vials left inside. Jaskier picked them up, wincing when his hands moved but kept going and put them on top of the draws. The bag was now empty and ready for use.  
He had decided, he had to go. To let Geralt be free from his annoying self and any danger he would put the Witcher in. 

He then looked around. He took a water flask and stuffed it into, what was now his bag. He took a scarf he had bought once from playing music all night, it wasn’t a great scarf and from many years of wearing it on the road, it had become tattered and would barely keep him warm, but it was better than nothing and faintly smelt of Geralt, he didn’t want to leave it behind. He looked at his lute. His heart caught in his throat. Rationally he knew he needed to take it, one it was his lute for goodness sake, one of the only things he loved more than himself (the other being Geralt obviously but he hadn’t admitted this much to himself yet) but he looked at his hands. They weren’t going to heal any time soon, would there even be a point? The forest and cold at this time of year were scary and dangerous as ever, a lute would be useless for him. It would weigh him down, eventually when his hands would heal, he could find a new one, or maybe even a new profession… something more useful than a stupid bard. 

So, it was decided, Jaskier would leave his lute behind. Geralt could sell it on, it was a beautiful lute mind you and had neither a scratch nor dent anywhere. It was elven so there may be a person out there that would pay a handsome price for it! Yes! Jaskier would be useful for once and although he would no longer be here, he was worry free knowing that Geralt would never have to stress about coin for at least a night because at least he had a lute he could sell whenever he needed money or just because. Jaskier smiled at the thought, he was glad he had found at least one way to be useful to the Witcher. 

He then looked at his coin pouch which was on the bedside table. It wasn’t full as it usually is, and he wouldn’t be able to refill it for a while, but he looked inside. Only 75 crowns. He frowned at that. It wasn’t ‘nothing’ but it wasn’t really a whole lot. He sucked in some air and then took 25 crowns and stuffed it into his trouser pockets, leaving the rest, including the pouch on the table. Geralt would need this more than he would… way more than he would. 

Geralt needs to buy potions, fix his armour, his swords, etc whilst Jaskier really didn’t need anything. 25 crowns would be more than enough he hoped, he imagined that with that he would be able to buy bread every now and then to keep him going and that was fine. 

Jaskier grabbed his jacket, it was thin and worn out, but it would be better than nothing and slung it over his shoulders. The satchel flung over him after. The satchel itself was light as he didn’t take much but that was all for the better, he didn’t need anything more anyway. He made his way to the door passing the mirror, he stopped and looked at the sight of him. His eyes were red and puffy, the blue in them not as radiant as it once had been, his hands disgustingly swollen and discoloured where the bandages had begun to loosen, and his clothes and hair a dishevelled mess. He was sad that this is what Geralt had to look at often, no wonder he pissed the Witcher off he thought. He shook his head at the thought, Geralt was hardly a fashionista so he actually doubted that that was what he really thought. 

Jaskier turns away from the mirror and make his way down the stairs. It was still early, barely even morning, so he was surprised to see the bar keep behind the bar. 

‘Morning’ came the deep voice from the man. Not as deep as Geralts was mind you. ‘Good morning’ Jaskier replied in nothing more than a whisper. 

‘Were you off too so early?’ the man continued. ‘Your Witcher’ll be back any moment now, heard from the people near the Crypt that he had beaten the Striga’ Jaskier finally looked up, red puffy eyes meeting the mans, the man gave a confused look, looking down at his hands then back at him. It looked as though he were going to open his mouth, probably was going to ask what had happened but Jaskier quickly interrupted before he had the chance. ‘haha yes, the Witcher he will be back soon!’ He was actually relieved to hear that Geralt was alive but panicked at the thought that he could literally be back any second. ‘Well, I have to go’ Jaskier stated in a hurry turning quickly and dashing out the door, heart beating in his ears. 

He ran to the stables. He didn’t think Geralt would be there and luckily for him he wasn’t. He quickly saw roach, laying on the hay and stepped close to her. He was apprehensive of the beautiful horse before him, he knew that she was protective of Geralt and never really liked Jaskier or so he thought. He put his hand out to touch her face and instinctively Roach nuzzled her nose in his hand. A pain radiated from his hand and shook through his arm, but he didn’t mind it. Roach actually liked him. 

‘Goodbye sweet lady’ he whispered and straightened up. Roach, as intelligent as always, copied Jaskier. She was on her feet in seconds. He could sense that she understood what he had said and to his surprise wasn’t happy. She began to stomp her foot in the ground and let out a neigh. Jaskier panicked, all this noise would cause a commotion and that was the last thing he needed so he turned his back and began to run. 

He had no idea where he was going but up ahead was a densely populated forest, the trees tightly knit together and knew that if he were to disappear and leave everything behind it would be by going through those trees. This forest was the key to Geralts freedom because the forest would guarantee that Jaskier would be lost to the world. To his left, a few feet away there was a path. Jaskier knew that would be better and would avoid him walking into branches and leaves but he also knew that it would probably be a bit more populated than if he were to walk away from the path, away from it all. 

He bounced in place, biting his lip. The path seemed lighter and easier to walk whereas the forest seemed cluttered and dark, he had to decide and decide fast. He could hear the town people waking up and people clapping. It meant Geralt was getting back, Striga changed and all. It meant Geralt was going to find out he was gone. 

Jaskier wasn’t sure why he was panicking. It didn’t mean anything anyway, Geralt would be glad to find out he was no longer there, no longer there to fuck anything up and annoy him… surely, he wouldn’t come looking for him. But he didn’t want to stick around anyway. He had decided. 

The path was a no go. He would need to take his chances with the forest ahead. He looked back once more towards the town. Should he had said anything before he left, even a note perhaps. Well it was too late now, Jaskier never really said what he thought and with that he said all he could, ‘Goodbye Geralt’ Jaskier whispered, before he stepped forward, leaves and twigs crushing under his boots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know! Jaskier made a choice and we know obviously it wasn't the right one because Jaskier is prone to walking into trouble but oh well! 
> 
> also yes i updated twice in a day! Let's just say I am going through something right now and writing this is actually helping me keep my mind off everything so expect more updates sooner than you would have thought! 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy where this story is going!


	4. Geralt realises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt realises and all he can do is rush

Geralt woke up. He didn’t get much peace as the Striga thrashed around the crypt, screaming and shrieking with each moment that passed. It seemed like an hour after Geralt had gotten in the tomb it had regained its strength and was ready to kill anything it could find, but it had focused its energy and time on Geralt. It clearly hoped it could rip the tomb lid off and rip Geralt into pieces but with the runes he had drawn on the tomb walls with the blood that dripped off him, he knew he was safe, and he had to wait. As agonising as it was listening to what really was a little girl scream all night, Geralt just waited. 

It got worse as the sun crept up. The screaming got louder and louder till Geralt could see that the sun was in the sky because the warmth and light had begun to creep through the cracks of the tomb. He waited for a few minutes, certain that the Striga was gone. The screams had stopped, everything had stopped. It was time to get out. 

Geralt was apprehensive. It wasn’t as though he was scared to fight, he was just tired. He had spent a lot of time thinking in the tomb, thinking of the Striga and its new life, thinking mainly of Jaskier. Thinking that he was upset he had done what he had done and that he needed Jaskier to know he didn’t mean it. 

It must have been his lucky day because when he opened the tomb there lay a little girl, back slumped against its stones. She couldn’t have been more than 10 but she was feral and would need rehabilitation but that wasn’t really his concern he had done what he set out to do. He had given this little girl a chance, a chance at a new life and what a life she will live, he thought and hoped. Geralt got out of the tomb and closely inspected the girl. She was skinny and gaunt but was sleeping soundly. Her face was what aged her because the rest of her body was fairly small, the size of a 5-year-old. Geralt prodded the child with his finger, tapping its cheek which made it move and continue sleeping in a different position. Certain it wasn’t going to wake up any time soon, Geralt picked up the kid and began to walk towards the town. 

It was relatively early, the sun just freshly placed in the sky. He thought to himself that Jaskier was probably still asleep, mouth open wide drool everywhere, as it usually is when he comes back to see him asleep. He smiled to himself, he survived. He really did it. The first thing he would do would be to buy Jaskier something nice. Something to show that he really was sorry and that he kind of liked Jaskier (well really liked Jaskier) and having him around, even though he didn’t show it much.

On his way back to the town from the crypt he saw a little tailors hut. It was small with only one window but in the window, as he walked past, child in hand, he saw a scarf. It was dark blue, and he knew nothing of whether that was an acceptable colour, but he knew Jaskier would love it and that his old one had become a pathetic excuse for a scarf. Or so he hoped. He would buy it in hopes it would make Jaskier happy, as soon as he got rid of this kid and given it to someone he could trust. 

He had spoken to Triss, a friend of Geralts about the Striga prior to the battle and at this Triss’ ears spiked up. She was intrigued and had asked if she could take the child, Geralt was relieved and told Triss that he knew the life him and Jaskier led at the moment would be no place to raise a child, especially a feral one, and he would be more than happy to hand the child over to her. Triss lived a quiet life, one where she kept to herself and Geralt knew that the older they got the lonelier Triss felt, he felt as though the kid and Triss would make a great little family. 

Triss had said that she would portal in before dawn and wait at the edge of town. The edge opposite to the forest Jaskier had taken earlier (not that Geralt knew). So Geralt walked through town, and the towns people let their jaws fall to the floor and clapped as he walked past. He hushed them and showed the small child sleeping and they all smiled in awe, it was as though they understood that this child had not wanted to kill but had to by no choice of its own. Geralt quickened his pace when he was a woman in fine robes waiting past the crowd. 

After a few minutes of walking, he was now face to face with the woman in robes. 

Triss took off the hood that covered her face and smiled at Geralt. Her freckles were prominent, and her smile was large and toothy, it reminded him of Jaskier.   
‘Oh my god, she is so cute! Albeit she is rather disgusting’ stated Triss. The kid was covered in blood (not its own), goo, saliva, dust and anything else you could imagine. It stank. Triss conjured up a smaller robe and draped it on the child. 

Geralt had grunted at her statement. ‘Are you sure you want this child?’ he asked. Triss looked at him. She waved a hand at him and he felt his skin prickle. She then handed him a tiny handkerchief she had in the breast pocket of her dress. ‘Wipe your face darling’ she said, ‘I can’t talk to you when you look like that… but yes. Yes, I am sure I want her!’ 

There was a shine that glistened in her eyes and although brown he couldn’t stop comparing them to the shine that glistened in Jaskier’s. He started shuffling on his feet, he could feel himself growing impatient. It was true he hadn’t seen Triss in a while and although they were friends and it would have been nice to catch up, he had important things to get back to, an important person to get back to. He handed the child over to her and thanked her for fixing him up. The little wave of her hand earlier had caused the majority of his injuries to disappear in appearance and diminished quite a lot of pain, although there remained an ache all over his body. 

Triss created a portal behind her and then looked at Geralt once more ‘How is Jaskier?’ she asked. He took a deep breath, he knew she would ask, they were friends too. ‘Probably asleep or just waking up’ he replied. Triss smiled in return. ‘Take care of him Geralt for he is more fragile than you think… he is only human after all’ and with that she said her goodbyes and walked through the portal. Geralt found it odd that that was what she decided to leave the conversation on, but he knew Triss was fond of Jaskier and he knew that she just wanted what was best for him. Had she known what he had done yesterday she probably would have taken the child and left; she would have been angry. He had to go and properly apologise. 

Before going back though, Geralt remembered the little tailor shop he passed and with a new surge of life jogged steadily towards it. It was as though the tiredness that ran through his body disappeared when he imagined the joy on Jaskiers face when he would receive his gift. He rattled on the door and a little woman; height no taller than past his knee came out. She looked at him, head crooked up and said, ‘you the Witcher huh?’ and Geralt nodded at her. She sighed and hugged his calf, ‘I can’t thank you enough!’ she stated, he didn’t expect this reaction. Yes, the people cheered and clapped for him but this? ‘I was afraid” she continued, ‘me and my family we are unusually tiny for humans and that made us great targets especially being further from the town than we want to be… you have made life bearable again. Thank you.’ The Witcher was shocked. He could feel the gratitude radiating from this woman. She pushed herself off of Geralts leg, and once more looked up. 

‘Sorry about that’ she chuckled, she looked like a child but Geralt knew by the lines on her face that the woman was at least 50 years of age. ‘What was it you want Witcher? It has become quite cold now... A scarf perhaps, a black one or white like your hair? Free of charge of course’ Geralt had just realised that he didn’t even go and get his money so the fact it was free was a relief. 

‘Actually…’ Geralt replied in his voice, ‘the blue one in the window’ the woman clasped her hands together and smiled! ‘Bravo Witcher! You have excellent taste!’ and she quickly, well as quickly as her little feet managed ran and grabbed a stool. She stood on it removing the scarf from display and quickly ran back to Geralt. Geralt bent down to take it and was relieved to find out it was incredibly soft. Jaskier would love it.

He looked at the woman, ‘I can repay you if you need’ and she laughed, an offended expression on her face. ‘Witcher, I did say free of charge, but you have already paid me enough. A scarf for my life hardly seems fair… you may take something else if you wish’ 

The Witcher hummed under his breath, he wouldn’t take any more. The shop was small and quite barren, it seemed as though the woman struggled to find what she needed to create what little garments she did. He looked at the scarf and put it in his pocket. ‘No, thank you very much but this will be all… my friend will love it. I hope’ he nodded his head and the woman smiled in return. 

The Witcher would remember this woman. She was kinder than the average human and she seemed strong even though she was so small… how did she even survive being so close to the Strigas home? Perhaps it never came to attack, that was the most sensible answer. 

Geralt couldn’t be bothered to think of the little lady anymore and quickly made his way to the inn they were staying at. When he got in a few of the village people cheered and he quickly nodded at them and made his way towards the stairs. 

‘I wouldn’t be in such a hurry Witcher’ said the man behind the bar, throwing a coin bag at him which was given to the bar keep earlier in the day so that he could pass it on to his guest, the Witcher for the completed job. Geralt stopped in his tracks, instinctively catching the bag and then replaying what the man had said to him in his head, what the hell did that mean? Geralt looked at the man, a stoic expression on his face. ‘He aint here anymore… your bard’ with that Geralt felt his heart plummet into his stomach. He ignored any response that ran through his head and ran up the stairs. 

What the fuck did he mean he aint here? Where could Jaskier be? 

He was at the door of their room. He hoped that the bar keep was out of his mind and that actually Jaskier was at the other side of this door. He doubted he would be asleep anymore because it took Geralt a bit longer than usual to get back to the room. He hoped instead that Jaskier was getting ready for the day as he usually did, making himself look good as always. 

Geralts heart was thumping against his chest and he was certain that if Jaskier was in the room, he could hear it from behind the door. He reached for the doorknob and turned it. He didn’t know what he expected. The bar keep had not lied. Jaskier was not here anymore. What was odd though was the state of the room. It was clean? He closed the door behind him and really took in what was happening. The bed had a faint crease at the end where it was apparent Jaskier had fallen asleep. Geralt was confused at this? Jaskier was the type to run and jump on a bed and ruffle all the covers and make sure he was comfortable, but this bed… it looked as though no one had slept in it. Why wouldn’t Jaskier sleep in the bed… wait more importantly where the fuck was he. Geralt looked around. He spotted the vials that were placed on top of the set of draws and realised his satchel was no longer there. He looked around and saw something on the floor. 

Geralt was back in his Witcher mode now. He had to examine everything, he would find Jaskier, wherever he went. He picked up what was on the floor only to see that it was a piece of bandage that had been ripped. There was no blood on it, so it meant that it was not a bleeding wound and with that Geralt was slightly relieved, however his mind raced. What else could the bandages be for? He kept thinking and then realised. The crack it was real. Jaskier’s hands. Fuck. 

He stuffed the tiny piece of bandage in his pocket, only to feel the scarf. He groaned; he wouldn’t be able to give it to him right now after all which saddened Geralt this was all his fault. Jaskier was finally afraid and had ran. He sat on the bed and looked around a bit more. Wait… Jaskier’s lute? What the fuck. 

Why would Jaskier leave his lute behind? It was his baby, his favourite thing. Geralt got up with speed and realised that something was off. Had Jaskier truly left on his own? Was he pressured to leave? Had the bar keep said anything that made Jaskier want to run away? Where was his bard, no, his friend? 

Geralt got up and took the remaining satchel that was in the room that had his clothes, a single water flask, hmm Jaskier must have taken the other, he thought to himself and a few other bits and bobs. He picked up the vials that Jaskier left behind and threw them haphazardly into his bag. He then finally noticed the little coin bag that belonged to Jaskier, even though it were not hard to miss. It was light pink, a contrast to the oak bed side table, and had made Geralt internally laugh when he had first seen it, what grown man uses a light pink coin bag? But Jaskier had answered this without him needing to ask, as Jaskier does when he talks, he talks about everything and had told him once a while back that the coin bag was given to him once and the lady that had sold it had sworn that it was lucky. Jaskier had used it every day since then.

Geralt believed Jaskier’s because Jaskier’s coin bag always was full. But wait, why would Jaskier leave it behind? It was important to him. He picked it up, shocked when he saw that there was money inside. 50 crowns. Not much he thought but that meant that Jaskier either had nothing on him or very little. Geralt growled what the fuck was Jaskier thinking? He stuffed the coin bag in his pocket. It was important and he had to keep it safe. 

He grabbed his bag and the bards lute and ran back downstairs. 

The bar keep had a sad expression on his face. ‘Expecting a lie from me where you?’ he asked. He knew, although Geralt never said much, that he was expecting his bard to be waiting in his room. Geralt didn’t reply, instead he took some money and placed it in front of the man, a sign that he was leaving and paying his debts for the night. The man took it and quickly blurted something that made Geralts blood run cold. 

‘Don’t take too long Witcher… the bard, he didn’t look so good’ he said. Geralt was in a rush but he had to know what that meant, he stopped at the inns door frame and turned his head, so he was now looking at the bar keep. The bar keep as though he could read Geralts mind continued. ‘His hands were bandaged, poorly, they were a mess… I don’t know how he even managed to get everything on him. And his eyes, he’d been crying all right’ nodding his head at Geralt. ‘Think he ran to the stables; he was in a rush. Good luck’ 

Geralt had heard everything he needed. He was a monster. Jaskier’s hands? Of course, he didn’t take his lute, what the fuck was he meant to do with a lute when Geralt had broken his hands. How was he even expecting to survive? 

Geralt ran to roach and quickly strapped everything in, making sure Jaskier’s lute was safe before he jumped on top of her. ‘You seen Jaskier recently Roachie?’ he asked, and the horse neighed, stomping her foot in direction to the forest. Geralt knew what that meant. Jaskier would still be close if he went through the forest. 

Geralt shivered and tucked his cloak around him before squeezing Roaches sides which caused her to turn towards the forest and gallop. It had been at least 2 hours since he had walked out of the tomb, Striga in hand, which meant there was ample time for Jaskier to go missing. He was wrong earlier… today wasn’t lucky at all. 

Geralt was tired but that didn't stop him, he had a new surge of life that just kept him going. He had to find Jaskier, he just hoped he wasn’t too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes okay, another update... well I felt like i left it hanging and this chapter was no better but knowing me i will update again soon haha! 
> 
> I do promise I have a life, it's currently on hold right now so please expect more from me soon! 
> 
> I hope you guys are still enjoying it!


	5. Jaskier walks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier made his decision, and so far it seems like its going well.

Jaskier had been walking for what seemed like ages. His feet were beginning to cramp up and his toes were on the verge of falling off (or so they felt like that at least). He was freezing too, his shitty little jacket did little to actually keep him warm, but he was grateful for the fact that the cold had actually caused his hands to go a little numb. They were cold and broken but at least they didn’t hurt as much anymore. He wasn’t sure if this was a good or bad thing, but he took it as a blessing for now.

Jaskier dug around his satchel whilst he was walking and took out his water flask. He realised to his horror that it wasn’t even full. What the hell, he was certain that when he had stuffed it into his bag that it had some water in it at least and then he realised. He looked at the bag and groaned when he saw that it had spilled everywhere. He was grateful that he didn’t have anything in his bag that would have been ruined by the water but for now the only thing he had to drink was gone. 

He threw the water flask towards a tree, but the cold that had numbed his hands had also numbed his arms and his aim was disgustingly bad. He cursed at how fragile and weak he was. The flask, missing its target completely had begun to roll down a little cliff. Jaskier ran after it. He was angry but he knew losing the only way he could gather something to drink would be ridiculously stupid. 

He needed that flask so that when he found a river or something, he wasn’t drinking like a madman from his hands and that he could save some for later when he continued travelling. He was stupid but he had learnt a few things while travelling with Geralt. 

He ran after the water flask, its speed growing as the little cliff it had fallen off became steeper. Jaskier’s foot slipped, obviously just his luck and before he realised what was happening, he was flying down the little cliff landing with a large thud beside a tree. His breath was knocked out of him and as if taunting him the water flask was laid right beside his head. 

He sat up after catching his breath and rubbed his sides. He was thankful he hadn’t broken anything else and that he would have only a bruise or two to show how stupid he was, but he grabbed the flask and thrust it into his bag. He got up dusting his body, removing all the dirt and leaves that clung to him and carried on his way. He looked back up at where he fell from and realised he was 'lost' and well he wasn’t upset for getting ‘lost’ that was the whole point right, it wasn’t like he was walking with a direction in mind, any way. 

He continued to walk for a while, his mouth drier and drier with each second. The wind battering his face, not making it any easier for him. He drew, the threads that he called a scarf closer to his face, attempting to keep some heat on him but it didn’t really work much. The scarf was too old and worn to really be of any use, well any use for a person of his size. 

It seemed as though he had been walking for what seemed like ages when he heard a twig snap beside him. His head snapped to the side and he stilled. He knew that meant something was close and coming. He could hear a whimpering sound. 

His heart was thudding in his chest. Fuck, he knew it was too good to be true. He had made it this far and nothing had hurt him or even come near him. He was alone for the majority of his walk and that was a good sign. But now… now something was nearby. Something wounded which meant Jaskier had the chance to run if it was going to try kill him, but his body wouldn’t move. He was afraid. 

The twigs were snapping, and the sound was getting louder and louder. Jaskier looked around until he found a fallen branch which was pretty long and thick, he picked it up and braced himself for whatever was going to come out from the bushes before him. 

He waited and with a final rustle, the creature lunged from behind the bush. Jaskier screamed and waved the branch ahead, eyes closed (yes that was stupid in hindsight) hoping his branch would make contact and save him. After a few seconds of swinging, and it not meeting anything he opened his eyes. There was nothing there until he heard the little whimper again and he looked down. 

What the fuck was that thing? It was small yet really fat. That made sense, that was why it made the twigs snap with every step it took. It was round and had patches of fur on it. It had a small head and eyes that were tiny little dots. It was looking up at Jaskier and although it was the ugliest thing Jaskier had ever seen in his life he felt sorry for it. The creature had two long gashes on his stomach (if it even was a him) and they were bleeding sluggishly. Jaskier was scared of the creature but there was something about it that reminded him of himself. 

Jaskier was weak like this little creature before him and he needed someone to protect him. His thoughts raced to Geralt and the many times the man had protected him but then he looked down at his hands, now a sickly purple colour and heard the words ‘stupid bard’ replay over and over and realised that he wasn’t protecting Jaskier because he liked him but because he had to. Geralt just didn’t have it in him to let an innocent person die. He would be this protective about anyone.

Jaskier looked down at the creature and poked it with his stick. It felt like a mean thing to do, especially since it was wounded but he realised he had to make sure that the creature wouldn’t just attack him. The creature did nothing but place its meaty paw on the stick and curled its fingers round it. Its paws reminded him of a rat’s paw very human like in the way it moved but they were fat and round like a cats, it was odd. The creature, which Jaskier decided to call Plib, was sitting there just holding the stick, looking expectedly at Jaskier. 

‘Mhmm my name is Jaskier… and yours is Plib now’ he said. His voice hoarse, it had been a few hours since Jaskier spoke, which was unlike him, but he had no one to talk to anymore. He sat down cross legged in front of Plib which was now looking at him with a confused expression on its face. 

‘Yes, Plib suits you very much’ he chuckled to himself. The wind sent a shiver down his spine and Jaskier pulled his scarf closer and closed on himself, however Plib made his way towards Jaskier and pushed himself on the man. It was cold Jaskier realised, its wounds still bleeding. Jaskier sighed before picking up the creature, he had no idea what it was, and it could kill him in all honesty, no matter how small but he couldn’t control the urge to just pick it up. He picked Plib up and put him on his lap. 

‘Hold still, I need to see something’ the creature seemed to understand because it just lay flaccid in Jaskier’s hands, allowing Jaskier to move him around freely. He looked at the wounds and touched it with his battered fingers, two wounded little creatures in the forest with no one there to help. 

Plib hissed and snarled at Jaskier when Jaskier continued to touch its wounds, Jaskier drew his hand back when he saw the sharp teeth that Plib had been hiding. He was certain that if Plib wanted to, it could just jump up at him right now and rip his throat apart and he would die right here but Plib for some reason just trusted Jaskier. 

Plib shivered some more and it began to breath heavily. Jaskier was sad. He realised that Plib maybe wouldn’t make it far, and that he was cold and wounded. Jaskier tugged on his scarf, a new kind of cold setting in and then wrapped it around Plib. He wanted to sit here, talk to Plib some more let him know he wasn’t alone while he died but it was getting dark and Jaskier had no idea where he was. He needed to find shelter or a stream or just something where he could hopefully be safe for the night. 

He knew he could take Plib with him, but he felt that that was unfair and that the journey would only cause him more pain. He took the newly wrapped Plib in his arms and looked in his eyes. ‘You’re kind of cute Plib’ he said ‘…please don’t die’ and he set Plib down on the floor. 

Plib looked up at him and then nestled it’s head in on itself. Jaskier could hear Plib breathing whilst he walked away. Maybe he would be okay he thought that would be nice. 

As he walked further and further, he could smell the burning smell of wood fire. That meant there had to be a camp ahead and usually a camp was built nearby a stream. Jaskier knew if he was silent enough, he could get close and check out if there was a stream nearby without really alerting any one of his presence. This way he would be able to get water, and probably just climb a tree and sleep out the night. 

But things rarely go his way, and he gets closer to the camp and hears himself step on an insanely large twig. The crack echoed through the forest and he froze. His eyes darted around, unsure of what he should do. 

He was frozen in the spot he stood, when he heard a ‘Who goes there?’ from a rough sounding voice which followed the echo of the snap. He knew he royally fucked up and that someone knew where he was, and the voice didn’t sound friendly. 

‘Fuck’ Jaskier whispered as he weighed out his options. But before he could do anything, there was a thump and oddly enough everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first started this fic I had no idea where I wanted to go with it but I enjoy where its been going so far! 
> 
> although it's quite obvious, i realised i havent told everyone that the chapters flip point of views, sometimes being gerlats and the next jaskiers. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter


	6. Geralts hunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a little bit in the future (the events of what happened at the camp will be explained in the next chapter from Jaskiers Point of view and then some one elses in the chapter after that...) 
> 
> So i hope that makes sense! Kind of like this chapter is set an hour after Jaskier had been knocked out so a lot had happened but Geralt wouldn't know that yet!

Geralt had been riding the path for a while now when he abruptly stopped Roach. He was tired and he hadn’t had any real time to rest in between fighting the Striga, listening to it scream and running to find Jaskier but he was thankful that he had Roach. He had rested a little as they rode through the forest, whilst also simultaneously keeping alert in attempt to find any signs that Jaskier was nearby. He thanked the lords that he was a Witcher right now and that he was able to endure a shit more than a normal human would be able too. 

It had been at least 4 hours since he had been riding and it was beginning to get dark (Not quite night yet but the moon would be bright in the sky in a few hours). There had been no sign of Jaskier. Geralt couldn’t hear anything, the forest was eerily quiet. Geralt looked at the lute strapped around Roach and grimaced, although he would never admit it out loud, he wished he could hear Jaskier play his lute right now.

He couldn’t smell anything other than the obvious forest smells; the place lacked the sweet smell that always radiated of Jaskier, Jaskier usually smelt like flowers probably because of all the times he would run up to them, explain what they were and then pick them… and that was when it hit him. 

Even when they walked together Jaskier was never able to walk on the path. He had always complained that it was so boring that there was never anything to see! Geralt now realised that he had only hummed in return when Jaskier said this, never changing the fact that they walked only on the path. It must have been painful for the bard only ever talking to himself. 

Why had it taken him so long to realise! In the 4 hours since he and roach had entered the forest, he had found nothing, that meant one thing… Jaskier wasn’t on the path! 

Geralt rubbed his hand over his face! He was so stupid not to have realised sooner, it was so obvious. If Jaskier had ran he would not want to be found and he would at least want to be immersed in the scenery, so he would do the opposite of what Geralt always did which was usually stick to the path unless he had a reason not to.

Geralt steered Roach off of the path and suddenly he came across what seemed like a small cliff. Geralt jumped off Roach with a thud to the ground. He was about to tie her to the tree before him but decided against this, he trusted Roach and knew she was not the type of horse that needed to be tied up. Especially if he were to leave her alone, he needed to make sure that she could run if she needed to. He patted her on the back and began his own journey. 

He walked to the edge of the cliff and saw what looked like a bunch of dirt which was missing patches of leaves. He wasn’t sure what this meant but he had the feeling that it meant something. The bare mud stood out in contrast to the mud covered in leaves. So, he decided to investigate. 

He jumped down. Initially the cliff was not that steep. Well, it wasn’t steep at all but the further he went, nearer to the missing patches of leaves he realised that the cliff got oddly steep very quickly and that explained what the patches could be. Someone had fallen down the cliff. 

Now Geralt knew better than to hope that it was Jaskier that had fallen but knowing his bard he knew that where there was trouble there was usually a Jaskier. Jaskier was always prone to getting hurt and falling. 

Geralt remembered the bar keeps voice ‘His hands were bandaged, poorly, they were a mess’ and Geralt sighed. He hoped that if had been Jaskier who had fallen that he hadn’t gotten hurt even more than he was, it was all Geralts fault anyway. He was unsure of how Jaskier would use his hands to stop himself or how he would even be able to defend himself if he had to. 

Regardless, Geralt continued and followed the trail of missing leaves and saw that it stopped beside a tree. He then saw the outline of shoes and he felt hope once more. Yet again, there was no reason to believe that they were Jaskier’s, but the footprints were the only things that had shown that there was a definite human in this forest and well he decided to follow them. They were small especially besides the print Geralt made himself and he felt as though he knew in his heart that these little feet belonged to Jaskier.

Geralt felt a fire burning in his chest, he needed to find Jaskier. He needed to protect him and to promise he would never hurt him again. He had to make it right. 

Right at that moment a short breeze passed by and the hair on the back of the Witcher’s neck stood up. Was that blood? 

The wind carried the tangy smell of blood through the air and it wafted deep into the Witcher’s nose except it wasn't distinct enough to figure out whose it was, he was too far from the source. Regardless, Geralt had one thought replaying in his mind 'oh no… could it be Jaskiers?' Geralt began to run towards the wind, it was clearly blowing the source of the smell towards him. It didn’t take long till he ran across a piece of fabric on the ground, where the smell of blood was strongest. 

He crouched down to see what it was and sighed in relief when he realised that the blood was not Jaskier’s (he had learnt the smell of Jaskier’s blood since Jaskier frequently tripped and hurt himself) but the relief was short lived when the smell of flowers rose in the air. The little piece of fabric he was now holding in his hand, covered in blood… was what he recognised to be Jaskier’s scarf. There was a mix of feelings that bubbled inside him.

It was clear that he was getting closer and closer to Jaskier he could feel it, but he still couldn’t make any sense of the scene before him. The scarf he was holding, or what was left of it, looked as though it had been torn apart which meant that whoever this blood belonged too had the other half. 

He wondered what had happened here. Had Jaskier gotten into a fight and ran, the thing only grabbing his scared and ripping a piece as he fled. Or had it eaten Jaskier, Geralts heart beating at a rapid pace… had it eaten his Jaskier leaving behind only a little bit of his scarf, but being as rational as he could he knew that actually if something had eaten Jaskier then there would be no footprints and there, right beside his own feet there were a set of prints leading off from the scene. 

Once again the feet were smaller than his meaning the same person had walked here, stopped and carried on. With faith that they were Jaskier’s since the scarf was definently his he followed them once again. 

After a while of walking and following prints through treacherous terrain he stopped, he could sense the presence of something ahead, it was the feeling he got when he walked too close to a camp and knew that there were people ahead. He racked his brain; he had hoped that Jaskier would have been smart and hadn’t gotten too close to whatever lay ahead but he knew he was hoping for too much. Jaskier as graceful as he was when playing his lute and dancing with the women in the Inns, in the forest he was terrible. Constantly tripping, snapping twigs under his foot, kicking rocks, the sorts! He knew that if Jaskier went this way that Jaskier had just walked into trouble because he could tell from the aura of the woods that this wood would not allow for normal people to camp and survive, it was clear that what lay ahead was a camp of bandits. 

Geralt could feel himself swaying, he had not been able to rest for a while and he knew that if Jaskier had bumped into a group of bandits that he would be in a whole lot of trouble. Geralt shook his head, drinking a potion that he carried that allowed for his strength to carry on once more. He could sleep when he Jaskier was in his arms, safe. 

Geralt drew his sword and followed the prints once more, when abruptly they stop and he can tell that the person he was following had been dragged off... towards the camp. Fuck he knew it... the smell of blood had become pungent at this point, it was the scent of multiple people bleeding. He was uncertain of what had happened but he had to brace himself for whatever he would lay his eyes upon. 

When Geralt finally reached the edge of the camp, the scene before him caused him to shudder. 

What the fuck had happened here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! 
> 
> In a few more chapters, this story will end BUT I was wondering if anyone had any requests for other stories they would like to see! If you want please leave a comment or something of a type of fic you would love to read and i'll get right on it with writing it (like I said I'm going through something right now and well writing really does help get my mind off it so I would be more than happy to do that for everyone!) 
> 
> Okay enough rambling! I hope you liked the chapter, will be updating tomorrow most probably!


	7. Jaskiers in trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier is in trouble...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: There is some description of violence and disgusting thoughts in this chapter so I just wanted to warn anyone!  
> Also: This chapter is from Jaskiers point of view...

Jaskier couldn’t remember where he was, and he couldn’t understand why his body hurt all around. He had yet to open his eyes, but he could feel the warmth of a campfire, so his mind raced to the thought of Geralt. He opened his eyes and to his surprise, there was no Geralt there but instead there were three men quite a bit larger than him, sitting around said fire and talking. Thankfully no one had been paying attention to Jaskier at that moment. 

Jaskier stifled the sound that was dying to leave his lips. His body was aching in pain and he wanted nothing more than to just groan in pain but another thing he had learnt from Geralt was when there was an enemy around that being as still and silent as you could, would always be better in the end so that was what he did. He quickly closed his eyes again, pretending to be asleep? Was he asleep earlier? 

He racked his brain… what had happened earlier and that’s when he realised. Whilst stalking the campfire, in his attempt to find a source of water, the men in front of him, which he now realises are bandits had heard him and he knew what that meant. That he was in trouble. 

Bandits were not kind people; in fact, it was the very opposite. Geralt had explained once when they had bumped into a group of Bandits that they were the closest to a monster you would find in human form. He had grunted after that statement because he, a Witcher, realised what he had said but Jaskier had understood. Unlike the Witcher that had a heart, Jaskier was certain that bandits didn’t feel anything, they steal for fun and kill just because they can. 

Jaskier was in great trouble right now. He shuffled slightly, still pretending to be asleep and realised that his hands were tied behind his back. He must not have realised because his arms had become numb at that point due to the cold and his hands even more useless than ever, he didn’t bother squirm or get out, he was practically defenceless. His feet were in the same predicament, tied and useless, but instead of the numbness that surrounded his arms he could actually feel the rope burn against his ankles whenever he slightly moved. 

Jaskier must have moved around more than he realised because he felt hot breath near his skin and a voice say, ‘look guys… he’s waking up’. A moment later he felt a hand slap him hard against the face. ‘Wake up boy!' Jaskier realised he had no other choice but to give up and open his eyes. 

‘Ah great! You’re up… stand up’ Jaskier was taken aback. What did he mean ‘stand up’? He couldn’t, he was tied up. But the man growled and shouted it louder ‘STAND UP’ so Jaskier attempted to stand, he pushed with his hands, still tied behind his back, pain shooting everywhere, and he held back tears and managed to get on his feet. He sighed a breath of relief; he had done what they said and then a second later he felt himself falling… face first into the dirt. His hands unable to protect him from the fall. He hit the floor, rocks digging at his face hard. 

The men behind him started laughing and he heard the sound of coins clattering together. ‘I told you he could do it, pay up’ he heard a voice say. Were they now playing with him? Jaskier laid there and let out a sob. What was happening? He could taste the blood that was now leaking from nose and dripping down his face. He regretted it all, he should have stayed with Geralt. 

Yes, Geralt had hurt him but he didn’t mean it, he never really meant it, he just never understood his strength or how fragile Jaskier really was. He should have stayed, should have waited but instead he ran. Like always Jaskier never used his words when he really needed too and instead ran from his problems and finally his stupid choices would kill him. 

The man groaned, ‘urgh, is he crying?’ he asked, the question clearly not directed at Jaskier so he chose not to reply and instead laid there silenty. A second later he felt a hard boot hit him hard in his side. ‘I said are you crying boy?’ said the voice, before Jaskier could stop himself he corrected the man, ‘actually sir, you said ‘is he crying’ so…’ his voice fading away when he realised what he did. Damn it, why did he always have to say something stupid? The man grabbed Jaskier by his hair and straightened him up, he was back on his feet but this time he felt one of the men grab his arms and keep him up right. 

The man that had previously been talking to Jaskier was now throwing fist after fist at his stomach. Jaskier would have doubled down in pain had he had the opportunity to but the man behind him ensured that he stayed upright. ‘Are you crying now?’ the man asked tauntingly, laughing in Jaskiers face. Jaskier looked the man in his eyes, he was going to die here but he wasn’t going to give the man the satisfaction of seeing him cry. Although the tears were attempting to fight through his façade, Jaskier growled back. ‘fuck you’ he said. The man was shocked. It was obvious they hadn’t expected much fight from Jaskier, he was small, he had muscles, but they were not from being strong but from all the walking he did and the fact that he couldn’t keep much weight on him even if he tried, his hands were broken so it was clear that the men knew he wouldn't be able to really protect himself. Jaskier knew any physical fighting back was practically futile.

This was the end, Jaskier closed his eyes, he would rather just take the beating than do anything to prevent it. Not that he could. 

But no more fists came, instead he felt the rope being cut from his feet and he realised that he could now stand on his own and then the ropes were cut from his hands. They were not as graceful as they had been with his feet because the knife cut into his wrists and drew blood, he hissed in pain, not realising that the pain in his hands could even get any worse. 

With the hands no longer holding up Jaskier fell forward, his arms refused to work, to numb and tired from being tied behind him. Instead, he fell on to his knees, swayed there for a moment and then fell forward, once again hitting his face on the rocks and dirt below him. He heard the men talking, he had no energy to move or to really listen to what was being said so he wasn’t entirely sure what they were saying but then he could hear feet walking towards him and the sound of shuffling. He stiffened he readied his body for the boot that was coming. His body protested; he now probably had a broken rib from all the earlier punches, but he wasn’t too sure. 

But the boot never came. The man grabbed Jaskier from under his armpits and sat him the right way up, leaning Jaskier against a tree. He then turned to face Jaskier, his face merely inches away... ‘What do you do boy?’ the man had asked. Jaskier realised that the man had called him boy a lot and that they must have believed that Jaskier was really young, he got that often. His large blue eyes were childlike, and his curly hair reminded many people of the hair kids have when they’re young, wild and untameable. He was also quite small, Jaskier wasn’t very old anyway, only 27 years of age, he technically was still a boy to these men who were clearly in their 40s, but he knew he was still a man at the end of the day. 

The man threw a fist at Jaskier’s face. He could feel his jaw shifting slightly. ‘I asked… what do you do boy?’ the man asked again. Jaskier must have zoned out when the man asked earlier which was the only reason he could imagine the man would hit him. ‘I sing and play the lute’ he replied in a smaller voice than he had intended. 

The man threw his head back, ‘you hear that’ he bellowed ‘this boy plays the lute’ and the three men began to laugh. Jaskier wasn’t sure what was happening… what was so funny about the fact that he was a musician. One of the men had stood up and had begun to go through the bags that they had with them which were carefully tied to their horses. ‘Ah here it is’ in his hand he held a lute. It was ugly and cheap, but it was a lute, it was also broken, many of its 15 strings hanging loosely. Jaskier couldn't help but feel sorry for whatever poor soul had been robbed of this lute, because he knew for certain these bandits would never buy a thing like this. 

The man with the lute threw the instrument to man in front of Jaskier. Whilst everything was going on Jaskier had the opportunity to analyse the man in front of him. His skin was tanned and leathery, clearly from constantly being in the sun moving around all day. He had gold teeth indicating he had coin, coin he had probably stollen from those who worked hard, so he was not poor and his clothes, stained and disgusting were of a fine quality. The wrinkles though that were on the man’s face were deep and scar like, making it evident he was growing old and his bandit days would soon come to an end. 

‘Play us a song’ the man said shoving the lute at Jaskier. Jaskier felt his heart beating, he started stammering. Jaskier looked at his hands. ‘I…I can’t’ he replied. The man pushed the lute into Jaskier once more with intense force, he felt the wood dig into him. ‘I didn’t ask… I said: play us a song’ the man repeated sternly, Jaskier could see the man was getting quite agitated with him. 

He sat beside Jaskier, letting Jaskier know that if he attempts to run that he would not get very far. Jaskier attempted to grab the lute that lay in his lap now that the man had let go of it, but his broken hands just wouldn’t listen to him. After a few second of trying, a few of his fingers finally cooperated and curled around the lute but the others hung loosely. Since running from the village he hadn’t really taken time to thoroughly examine his hands, and only now saw how bad they had gotten. The man grunted, reminding him of Geralt and he chuckled. 

‘Something funny boy?’ The man asked. Jaskier speedily shook his head. ‘I…I’ll… try…play’ Jaskier replied with a voice so small he wasn't sure if the man had even heard him at all. He tried to strum, hissing when the strings smacked into his fingers, tears pooling at his eyes, tears he wasn’t able to hold back. The man looked at his hands and picked one up, it lay limp. His hand was unusually small compared to the mans.

‘Urgh, What happened here?’ he asked. Jaskier didn’t know why the man would care what had happened to his hands but he told him he had fallen, and the man looked sad for a second, but that second didn’t last long before he threw his head back and laughed again. Jaskier soon realised that the man did not feel sad for Jaskier but instead for himself, since he wouldn't be able to hear any music. The man stood up, dusting the dirt off of him and picked up the lute and looked Jaskier in the face. ‘Well, boy, since you are no use here this is where it ends’ Jaskier began to sob. 

He never wanted to die. Yes, he ran into trouble wherever it was and never listened when Geralt had told him to stay back but he knew he was safe that in those moments Geralt would always protect him but... Geralt wasn't here right now. Geralt wouldn't be coming, Jaskier never told him to... he realised that through his mindless babbling Jaskier never really said anything important at all. 

The man told Jaskier to place his hands on the floor before him, Jaskier couldn’t understand and whilst he sobbed, he complied with the man’s orders. Before he could even realise what was happening the man threw the lute back and struck it down with full force at Jaskier’s hands. Jaskier screamed in pain. His hands would not listen to him, he couldn’t move them, he couldn't draw them back before the man once again threw the now completely broken lute at Jaskiers hands once more. Jaskier writhed where he sat and cried and cried, his tears and sobs drowning the laughs from the men around him. He continued to scream and cry for what felt like a few minutes before the man kicked him and pushed Jaskier to his side. Jaskier felt darkness creep up on him. The pain his body had endured was too much and it was taking everything he could to just stay awake. Then all three men were on him, it seemed as though beating Jaskier had brought them joy since he had nothing else to offer, he did not have much music, his voice hoarse and unable to sing, his hands probably broken beyond repair now. 

He laid there until one man took out a knife, Jaskier’s eyes were closed so he hadn't realise, however they fluttered open when the man picked him up and once again placed him, back leaning on the tree so that he was sat up right. His head lolled side to side, no energy to keep it up and then the man said something he would never forget.   
‘Someone as fragile and pretty as you shouldn’t be alone in the woods boy’ and with that he slashed at Jaskier’s doublet, it was obvious he was trying to get the garment to rip off, but the man had no grace and had stuck the blade into Jaskier’s skin, tearing it from his chest to his hip. Jaskier let out one last blood curdling scream before he plunged into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't wait to release the next chapter which I will probably be releasing tonight!


	8. Bandits...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a SHORT chapter from a new perspective!

*From the Bandits Perspective* 

‘You dumbass’ one of the men slapped the man holding the knife. ‘Look what you did, why did you cut him? We didn’t actually want to kill him, not right now anyway’ The older of the three men sighed, rubbing his hand through his hair ‘… fuck it, throw him away, he aint much fun like this or just leave him there, I don’t care’ and he turned around making his way back towards the camp fire. The other two men looked at the pale boy before him, it was obvious that he wasn’t dead right now, but he wouldn’t be alive for much longer if his wounds were not tended to eventually. 

The slash in Jaskier’s chest bled but it was slow and thick, which meant he had a while before he would bleed out so he wouldn’t die right now not from that wound but the other was the way his ribs stuck out now that his doublet was open it was clear to see that Jaskier had a few broken ribs that were shifting with each breath, it was only about time that it would shift and puncture a lung. 

The men decided it would be easier to do nothing and just let Jaskier lay there and die, they didn’t have long before they would eventually pack up and leave, leaving Jaskiers body there where it lay. Not many people ventured though this forest so they wouldn’t be found with the body, not that they cared even if they were. Killing was a hobby to them. 

The men closest to Jaskier sighed, dusting themselves off and went to join their leader by the fire. It was only a second later when they heard a sound. A rustling from the trees above. The men stood up, giving wary glances at each other and hesitantly drew their swords, Bandits as they were, they were fucking afraid of monsters. Not that they would show it. 

The tree rustled for longer until a fat little creature jumped out. It was small and round and held a mass about it. It had patches of fur and wait what the fuck… was that a scarf? The creature must have been stalking them for a while, and had used this time, whilst the men were sitting around and relaxed to attack. 

The men looked at each other and laughed, ‘What the fuck is that thing?’ one of them asked. The other two shrugged, lowering their weapons, it was clear they didn’t see the creature as any sort of threat. What the men hadn’t expected was that the creature, for its weight, would be insanely fast. In only a split second, the creature ran and twisted itself around their bodies with intense speed, ripping pieces of flesh off the men as it went. 

They began to stumble, unable to land any blows on the unnaturally fast creature. 

Eventually the creature ran to their necks, one by one it would dig its teeth deep into one man’s neck and ripping out the jugular. It would then jumped and gouge out another’s eyes, letting the man scream in pain whilst he dealt with the other once again ripping its neck. The man with no eyes screamed and the creature watched it for a second before deciding to attack again. All three men had fallen to the floor, blood flowing out of them, it had only taken seconds for them to die, which the creature regretted... they should have suffered more. 

He was small and had had to wait for the men to tire before he could attack. His previous wounds had healed, he was lucky like that, one of his qualities was his quick healing but without the scarf to staunch the bleeding earlier he would have died. He was a creature, but he understood pain and understood sound so when he had heard wailing which had sound eerily identical to the voice of the man that had helped him, he had to check it out. When he found the camp, it was clear his friend was in danger, but he couldn’t help right away, not whilst the men were so full of life. 

After sniffing the bodies, to make sure that they were indeed dead, the creature ran to Jaskier. It threw its paws at Jaskier’s face, nails retracted, tapping the man to see if he was still alive. Jaskier did nothing, he didn’t even move but the creature could feel his breath on its patches of fur and knew he was alive. Unable to do anymore the creature laid beside Jaskier and nestled his head on Jaskier’s. 

Although he couldn't do anything for now, he could at least protect his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes! IT was Plib that came to the rescue! albeit a bit late but the bandits got what came for them!


	9. Geralts worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This goes back to Geralts perspective a little before

Geralt felt nauseated at the stench of flesh and blood that was fresh in the air. It could not have been more than 20 minutes ago that this blood was splattered everywhere.

Geralt creeped closer to the camp, unknowing that the men had long perished. He peered through the bushes and his heart leapt out of his mouth and before he could realise, he was running and screaming towards Jaskier.

He ran past the three men that laid there dead, running towards Jaskier till he felt something sharp dig into his calf. He looked down and saw a creature hissing at him. What the fuck is it? Geralt thought to himself and wait… is that a scarf? Wait that’s the other half of Jaskiers scarf!

Geralt looked the creature in the eye and decided he knew what he had to do he stepped back and dropped the weapon he was holding from earlier to the ground. He could hear only two heart beats, the small creatures before him and the slowing one that came from Jaskier.

‘I am his friend’ Geralt said, looking the creature in the eye. Hoping that the creature would be able to understand him. The creature refused to move, running near Jaskier hissing again. Geralt knew this creature was small and he could probably get rid of it with one swing of his sword but if it had Jaskiers scarf he knew that Jaskier would be upset if anything happened to his little friend, so he had to find another way to persuade it.

‘LET ME THROUGH, I AM HIS FRIEND’ the creature spiked up, he was scaring it, but he needed to get his point across. As though by luck Jaskier began to stir, groaning, the creature turning its head from Geralt for less than a second to look at his friend. Geralt took that opportunity to scoot closer and quickly stilled when the creature looked back.

Jaskier was waking up and he could hear a little ‘Ge…Geral…t’ come from the man’s voice. ‘Jaskier, it’s me’ he replied and Jaskiers heartbeat picked up a little. The creature cocked its head, it was clear it had recognised the word Jaskier so Geralt repeated it. ‘Jaskier, I’m here’ the more Geralt spoke the more Jaskier woke up and attempted to reply.

The creature whipped its head from one human to the other, it was clear it was attempting to assess what was happening but after a minute of that the creature ran to the side letting Geralt pass. He nodded at the creature in thanks before running to the bard.

Geralt felt tears welt up in his eyes. He had never felt like this before. There was a new level of emotion bubbling inside him, he had never seen Jaskier like this. Jaskiers jaw was slightly shifted, the dirt of a footprint on the side of his face. The wound on Jaskiers chest was bleeding sluggishly and Geralt didn’t like the look of that. He ripped a tore off of Jaskiers already ripped clothes and quickly made a pathetic excuse for a bandage just in attempt to stop the bleeding somewhat, taking into account the way Jaskiers ribs stuck out. He then let his eyes crawl down Jaskier, the man before him had muscle, muscle Geralt never knew was there. His abs were impressive, but it was clear they were not there for fighting or strength but more so durability. It was obvious Jaskier had gotten the body he had gotten from being able to keep up with the Witcher.

He was impressed but this wasn’t the time for that. Geralt continued his search for injuries, leaving the hands for last because he had no idea what awaited him there. He finally looked and saw the mess that Jaskier once called hands. He couldn’t understand, surely this wasn’t because he had pushed Jaskier into the wall. Did he do this? Fuck why hadn’t Jaskier said anything.

But the closer he inspected the hands that he held, tiny in his hands, he saw splinters. His eyes darted around, and he saw a lute? Broken into a million pieces he winced at the scenario that played out in his mind. Had Jaskier told them to stop? Did he cry in pain?

Geralt sighed, he had to get out of there now after assessing his friend and whistled for Roach. The creature began jumping around, clearly not understanding what was happening because Geralt has started to pick Jaskier up. It was clear Jaskier would not be able to move in his current condition but with every movement Jaskier would moan in pain. It was clear he didn’t have the energy in him to scream.

Geralt now carrying Jaskier, an arm under his legs and arms, made his way to Roach which had gotten to the camp site in ample speed. He turned to the creature, it looked sad, the scarf Jaskier had given it blowing in the wind. ‘Come’ he said, and with speed the creature ran towards Geralt, climbing up him and nestling himself on top of Jaskier. The creature was an ugly one and Geralt had never seen one like it before, but it had seemed to take a liking to Jaskier and the dead men were clearly its doing, he owed this little thing his life.

Jaskier shivered in Geralt arms. Fuck, he forgot that Jaskier could feel the cold way more than he could. He needed to realise Jaskier was fucking human. He shifted Jaskiers weight so he was carrying the bard with one arm so that he could remove the cloak covering him with the other. He draped it on top of Jaskiers body before getting up on the horse, Jaskier and little creature in arm. Jaskier continued to shiver when Geralt remembered the scarf. He took it out of his pocket and wrapped it around Jaskiers neck. Jaskier immediately hummed, in his unconscious state, and his body stopped shivering.

…. Roach ran. Roach ran faster than she had in a while. She could feel the urgency radiating off of Geralt.

Geralt made sure that they reached the town in less than 30 minutes. Earlier whilst looking for Jaskier he had learnt the lay out of the forest and knew how to get back fast.

He reached the edge of the town and his heart began to race, he had no idea where to go. He looked down at the pale man in his arms. The blood splattered everywhere looked wrong, as though it didn’t belong on his friend. The creature was tapping Jaskiers face every now and then ensuring that he is alive. He knew where he had to go.

Geralt rode Roach into town, reaching a door which he was thankful was closer to the edge of the forest than the rest of the town.

The little tailors shop.

He banged on the door as long as he could. The woman opened the door speaking before it was even fully open ‘what do you want?’ she snarled out. Geralt was taken aback, was this the same kind woman he had met earlier in the day?

The woman looked up and shook her head, ‘oh deary me, I’m so sorry Witcher, I thought it was someone else’ she then looked at the still body that lay in Geralts hands. He looked down at her, tears in his eyes. ‘Please help’ he said, his voice small, as small as it could be for Geralt.

The woman rushed them in and threw all the garments scattered on the table to the floor. ‘Put him here’ she said. ‘Fuck, I don’t really know how to help’ she continued, Geralt placed Jaskiers lifeless body on the table. Geralt rummaged through his pockets in frustration, he had to find the xenovox that Triss had given him previously, it was the only way he could contact her!

'Triss...' Geralts voiced echoed in the little shop, ‘Hellooo’ Triss' light and cheery voice replied. ‘Help, please, it’s Jaskier’ Geralt replied. The cheery tone from Triss fell. ‘Where are you?’ she said and Geralt explained, the same little town she had visited earlier in a little tailor shop. He couldn’t see it, but he was certain she had nodded her head because less than a minute later there was a rumbling beside the store, then the sound of rapid knocking on the door.

The woman opened it, ‘friend of the Witcher I’m assuming?’ Triss walked in, panic in here eyes.

‘Yes, that would be me’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I haven't updated as fast as I was! 
> 
> hope you enjoyed the chapter tho!
> 
> ALSO: @Iveynadler + @Ashterbowden - thanks for the recommendation for how I could change the 'phone' aspect. I wasn't really a fan of it myself so i'm grateful! 
> 
> also for the change: a Xenovox is an item that lets two people talk over a distance - to save for the explanation, assume that Triss had given it to Geralt in a previous encounter!


	10. Triss helps

Triss couldn’t believe what she saw before her. Jaskier laid on the table, in this little shop… dying. 

She knew Jaskier was a magnet for trouble, but he always had Geralt to protect him, so what was going on here? 

Triss understood, after many years of tending to the injured, that she didn’t have any time to waste. She sprang into action, ignoring the little woman who had let her in and Geralt who had done nothing but stood in the corner with a solemn expression on his face. 

She didn’t need any tools or anything specific, all she needed was her magic which she had plenty of right now. She grabbed a small stool nearest to her and sat on it, she was now facing Jaskier.

After giving one last look at Geralt, who had still not moved since her arrival, she reached out and placed her hands above Jaskiers body. There was a faint glow that illuminated her hands, she had begun the process of fixing him. 

As Triss worked, she really looked at Jaskier, really examined him. He looked so young and fragile, well he always looked young but fragile? Jaskier was so brave and loud for a human, seeing his still body seemed...odd. He was pale and his hair slick with sweat, he no longer looked like the man she once knew. Jaskier was nothing but joy, he radiated warmth and love wherever he went but right now, on this table, the only thing that Jaskiers body exuded was death. The warmth and love no longer there his body an empty shell of what once was but Triss wasn’t afraid, she could feel Jaskiers heartbeat behind her magic… he was still alive, and she would not let him die. 

Her hands were over Jaskiers chest for a while, she had two things to deal with as soon as possible, his shifting bones and his cut. Luckily, the cut on his chest was not deep and mostly superficial. Had he not had proper care he would have died, shallow or not, it just wasn’t as an emergency as it first seemed. The blood on Jaskiers pale skin had been alarming for anyone, she shuddered thinking how Geralt must have felt seeing him like this. His bones, however, were a large problem. With each breath Jaskier took they moved, rattling inside him. She worked fast and hard, and eventually after a gruelling 10 minutes the bones were back in their appropriate place. 

Jaskier would be in pain when he woke up but at least he would wake up. The glow from her hands began to flicker, she was wavering between her magic and knew she had exhausted her powers for the time being. 

She let out a breath of air and looked at Jaskiers chest. It was fine for now, sore and ugly but fine. She swept Jaskiers hair back and took a look at his other injuries. She saw his hands were a disaster but having no power left in her she would have to fix them later, she picked them up and assessed them well, bandaging them so that there would be no further damage to them and that they could begin to heal properly. They would need magic to be fine but for now she would just bandage them. 

Triss knew she was strong and that all of Jaskiers wounds from here on can be fixed with time and a little more magic, when she regained it that is. After assessing all of the rest of his cuts and bruises and wiping away the blood that littered his body, she placed her hands on her legs and pushed herself up, off of the little stool beneath her. 

She turned to Geralt; eyes fierce… ‘explain.’ She said. 

She watched as Geralt, a man beyond men, a man who resembled a beast, impenetrable, strong and wild, shuffled on his feet, afraid of meeting her eyes. ‘He ran away…’ he replied. ‘WHY?’ she yelled, ‘What the hell did you do Geralt? You were supposed to protect him!’ She watched as Geralt made his way over to the table where Jaskier lay, he still hadn’t met her gaze and instead it was clear his eyes were transfixed on the man before him. 

He reached out, it seemed as though he wanted to touch Jaskier but before his hands could reach he pulled them back. ‘I think he hates me…’ he replied. Geralt was usually hard to read but right now it was as if his emotions were screaming in the little cramped room. ‘Why would he possibly hate you?’ Triss asked. Geralt finally looked up, ‘I think I hurt him’ he took in a shaky breath, ‘before I went to fight the Striga, I pushed him. He was doing what he always does, speaking nonsense, speaking on my behalf and I just… snapped’ Triss sighed. 

She made her way over to Geralt and placed a small but loving hand on his shoulder. ‘Geralt… he doesn’t hate you but do you understand what Jaskier is, right?’ she asked. You could see Geralt had no idea what she meant, so she continued ‘he’s human.’ 

‘Well, of course he’s human, what else would he be?’ Geralt replied. Triss shook her head, ‘No Geralt, do you understand? He is ONLY human. He is not like me or you. What would cause a bruise on your body for him could take his life, what would cause you to stumble would make sure he fell, something small for you is huge for Jaskier. As much as Jaskier hates to admit it, he is only human. He is weak and fragile and without you Geralt he would have been dead a long time ago’. 

Geralts face saddened at those words, it was evident that after the events of the day and the mere idea of Jaskier dying had shaken him to the core. The old woman who had been in the shop this whole time watched as Triss spoke to Geralt. She looked at the three and without realising spoke up. ‘Witcher’ she said, which caused both Triss and Geralt to look at her, it was obvious amidst the chaos that they had forgotten she was there, ‘I can tell, and I am a stranger after all, that you care deeply for this man. Do not make the same mistake as you have once, for next time you may not get another chance to prove it to him.’ 

Triss let out a laugh, ‘my oh my, I like this woman! You are absolutely right! Geralt you are strong, use it well and please cut Jaskier some slack, like we said, he needs you to protect him.’

Geralt vowed to Triss that he would never hurt Jaskier again, although he never meant to hurt him in the first place. Triss, looking at the man on the table, explained that Jaskier would be alright that the wounds on his body would no longer kill him, however when he awoke, he would be in a tremendous amount of pain. Geralt nodded, letting Triss know, a bit to eagerly, that he would look after Jaskier and ensure he would recover peacefully. 

The woman had brought over some clothes for Jaskier, they dressed him, and he no longer looked as scary as he once did. At this moment he no longer looked like he was dying but rather as if he was sleeping. His face bruised and a little swollen, had recovered a little and his body was regaining its colour. Although Triss focused her magic on his chest, little pieces of it had radiated through his body slightly healing his other cuts and bumps. Triss touched his cheek and leaned down ‘He really loves you Jaskier, let him know next time if he hurts you, he’s too stupid to realise on his own’ she whispered in his ear. 

He was unconscious but as if he heard, the corner of his mouth turned upwards, it was a slight movement and gone before anyone could really realise it had even happened. Convinced that Jaskier was fine and that Geralt would behave himself she turned to the little woman. ‘Thank you, I was glad Geralt could come here’ the woman waved her hand as she shook her head ‘no no, it was no worry please, I am glad I was able to help’ Triss just smiled at her and turned. 

‘Geralt, Jaskier will be okay so I must get going there are other matters I need to attend to. As he is now dressed and tended too, get him to an inn, somewhere warm where he can recover for the next few days. When I am done, or if you need me sooner, call for me and I will be back to help more.’ Geralt nodded, still obviously upset at the whole ordeal. ‘Goodbye, and take care of him’ she said as she turned for the door. 

‘Goodbye, I promise I will’ Geralt replied, hardly looking away from Jaskier. 

A final look back before she left, she saw Geralt holding Jaskiers battered hand in his, not too tight where it would hurt, but enough that Jaskier knew he was there and knew in her heart that Jaskier would be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the last chapter! there is more to come! Hope you guys enjoyed and sorry it took a while to get out!


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